


Reprieve

by sussiekitten



Series: Side Stories to the Obsession 'Verse [2]
Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, An AU of an AU, Don’t copy to another site, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Magic, Mpreg, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-War, Vampires, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2019-10-03 04:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sussiekitten/pseuds/sussiekitten
Summary: Brom found that he had to sit down. He was holding two tests; both displaying the same result.Positive.He was pregnant.(An AU of the Obsession ‘verse and a semi-sequel to “Bloodlust.”)





	1. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the story that I have decided to call _Reprieve,_ the AU of the Obsession 'verse. This story picks up directly after Brom and Morzan's encounter in _Bloodlust_ , with some notable changes to any of you that read that story will spot easily. I would highly recommend reading _Bloodlust_ first, but due to the themes in it I'll give a brief summary of it instead:
> 
> _Bloodlust_ starts with Brom tracking Morzan with the intent of killing him for being a homicidal vampiric douchebag. He runs into Murtagh and Morzan. Morzan rapes Brom, but lets him leave without killing him. Brom subsequently runs to Daret and vows to kill Morzan at a later date. Of course, as is revealed in the original Obsession 'verse, Murtagh kills Morzan before Brom can.
> 
> Now, in the original Obsession 'verse Brom does not end up pregnant as a result of this encounter. But thanks to some very kind (and enabling) reviewers, I've been mulling over what-if scenarios for Brom and Morzan for a while now. Like what if Brom did end up pregnant? What if Murtagh didn't Morzan? And thus this story was born.
> 
> As always, I encourage you to check out the tags and make sure this story is for you. It will deal with darker themes and Morzan, much like Murtagh in _Obsession_ , is not going to be a nice guy for quite some time. Neither is Brom, particularly, but at least he's _**nicer.**_
> 
> But on to the story!
> 
> **Be warned; this story is self-betaed.**

Brom didn't stop running until he reached Daret. There he secured a room at a rundown motel where the clerk clearly knew better than to ask any questions and spent the better part of a week healing. It was a tedious task, mending his body and spirit, but he was determined to get it done.

He spent more time than he liked thinking about the encounter. He thought about the boy in particular. How could the kid have known about Safina? Why had the kid tried to stop Morzan from killing him? Why had Morzan let him escape?

He tried not to dwell on the past too often. Those thoughts chilled him to the bone and he was already running cold enough as it was. Brom knew most of that chill came from the severe bloodloss he'd suffered and that it'd pass as his body repaired itself, but the longer he felt cold the more he worried.

He caved a week and a half after he left Carvahall. He went to the magic shop he knew he could trust and stopped by a small apothecary before returning to his room with everything he might need. He pushed past the dread and followed the instructions to the letter.

Two minutes later and Brom found that he had to sit down. He was holding two tests; both displaying the same result.

Positive. He was pregnant.

The tests fell out of his hands and onto the dingy carpet. Brom buried his head in his hands and tried to stop shaking.

-;-

"You're back."

Brom paused. He hadn't actually expected them to still be at the manor in Carvahall – had indeed only showed up to see if he could pick up on their trail – but it seemed at least one of them hadn't left.

The boy stared up at him with almost frighteningly human eyes.

"Where is your father?"

It hadn't taken him long to decide on how he wanted to proceed. There were potions and drugs on the market that would do the trick if he didn't want to seek help from a medic – professional or magical – but Brom was too angry for that. He'd lost too much already at the hands of this fucked up war and the beasts fighting on the other side. Morzan had already taken so much from him; he was not going to let Morzan get away with this too.

The boy – Murtagh, Brom remembered belatedly – just blinked up at him.

Brom had to remind himself to keep calm. His mind might be in shambles and everything inside of him might be screaming about how wrong everything was, but he had to appear calm. This boy – even if he was just a child – was still a vampire. He was still the enemy and Brom couldn't afford to show any kind of weakness.

"Father's upstairs," Murtagh said finally. "I'm not supposed to bother him while he's sleeping."

Brom paused. Morzan was sleeping? At this hour?

"Are you here to kill him?"

Brom almost jolted. Murtagh spoke plainly and with a voice devoid of any emotion. Brom had to remind himself again that this boy was a vampire, one who had been raised by the infamous Morzan at that. Of course he wasn't going to act or sound like a normal kid.

"What makes you say that?" Brom heard himself ask. His voice came out gruffer than he meant it to.

"Because of the fight you had," Murtagh said simply.

Brom had to remind himself that Murtagh hadn't witnessed the whole encounter, so the flash of blind-hot anger he felt was inappropriate. The boy hadn't done anything wrong. Yet. While it was likely he'd grow up to be just like his father, especially given the environment he'd grown up in, but that didn't give Brom the right to kill him. Not yet, not unless he had proof that Murtagh was following in his father's footsteps.

"It's ok," Murtagh said then. "You can go up. I won't stop you."

His hand was around the handle of his knife before he was even aware of moving. This smelled too much like a trap. Vampire or not, surely a child wouldn't encourage a stranger to kill their parent. It _had_ to be a trap. Morzan was likely not asleep at all and was just waiting to catch Brom unawares.

He shouldn't have come.

"You'd let me kill him, just like that?"

Murtagh looked at him with eyes that were far too old for his face. "If you don't, someone else will."

Brom felt himself frown. "And what makes you say that?"

Murtagh looked up at the ceiling. "Father is ill," he stated before lowering his eyes. "If you don't kill him, then someone else will."

Brom felt himself freeze. He had been hunting vampires long enough that there was very little he didn't know about them. Vampires were notoriously and annoyingly hardy creatures. They were tough to kill and only fell ill under very specific circumstances. That meant Morzan had either been starving himself – something Brom very much doubted – or he had met his mate.

Brom forced himself to let go of his knife. "How long has he been ill?" he heard himself ask.

Murtagh frowned at him. "Not long," he said, though why he was entrusting Brom with this knowledge was beyond him. "It happened after you left."

That...did not bode well.

"Kid," Brom said, and for some reason Murtagh's frown deepened, "why are you telling me these things? You know your father and I aren't on good terms."

That didn't seem to faze the kid at all. "If you don't kill him, someone else will," he repeated. "I think Father would prefer if it were you."

That made no sense. "What makes you say that?"

"I know Father," Murtagh said. "He would much rather you do it than someone looking to take over his seat."

Brom wanted to sit down and put his head between his knees. Everything felt out of alignment. Nothing was making sense.

Morzan ill? Unthinkable. Just as unthinkable as Morzan preferring Brom to deal the killing blow over anyone else. Surely someone like Morzan saw himself as above something as plebeian as the true death.

"You don't know what you're saying," Brom said brusquely.

Murtagh frowned again. "Yes I do."

This could not be his life. He could not be standing in Morzan's lair, arguing with his offspring about how Morzan might wish to die.

This was a mistake. He should never have come.

Brom shook his head.

Murtagh looked up suddenly and seemed to hunch in on himself. "Father is awake."

Brom swore under his breath. He had lingered for too long. He had to leave before something else happened.

He hadn't even gotten one foot out the door before another voice joined in.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Brom turned before he could tell himself what a momentously bad idea it was.

When he lay eyes on Morzan, it quickly became clear that Murtagh hadn't been lying. Morzan was not well. His skin was unnaturally pale – even for a vampire – and his veins stood out like bruises under his skin. It didn't look like he had slept in a century, if not more.

And yet, Morzan still pushed on. He smirked at Brom and eyed him pointedly, acting like he wasn't leaning on the doorframe to keep himself upright. "Come for a rematch?"

While his mind told him that there was no honour in kicking someone while they were down, Brom reminded himself that Morzan had done that and far worse. He deserved everything that he had coming.

"It would hardly be a fair fight," Brom heard himself say in a fit of insanity. His hand once again loosened its hold on his knife. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to take out Morzan, but somehow he found that he couldn't. "Stop starving yourself and then we'll see."

Brom couldn't believe what he was hearing. What had gotten into him? Had he just encouraged Morzan to murder more people so he could take him on in a fair fight? If he was judging Morzan's expression correctly then he had done just that, and Morzan was just as stunned as him to hear it.

Brom took advantage of the situation and fled before he could say anything else.

-;-

Coming back to his parents' house felt surreal, even though he had only left it behind two weeks ago. Brom let himself in before putting the barrier up again.

He took a moment to review what had just happened. He couldn't believe himself. What had gotten into him? Why had he said those things? Why had he lingered? Why hadn't he just walked past Murtagh and killed Morzan when he'd had the chance?

Nothing made sense.

Brom made a beeline for the library and began to pull down every book ever written on vampires. He ignored everything his mind was telling him as he reached into his bag and pulled out his own personalised notes. There had to be some other reason that vampires got sick and he'd just forgotten about it. That was it. That had to be it. And he wasn't going to stop until he found it.

-;-

He'd admitted defeat an hour before his wards warned him of his visitor. The room had gotten dark around him, though Brom wasn't sure when. If the wards hadn't nudged him, sending a chill down his spine, Brom didn't know how long he would have stayed in the same position.

Brom pushed himself up and walked over to the fireplace. He grabbed the ornate sword hanging over the mantelpiece and didn't stop walking until he reached the terrace doors. They were in need of a good clean, but Brom only lingered long enough to unlock them and push them open.

There was still a sprinkle of dusk in the sky, though the shadows had grown long and dark. What little light there was left illuminated just enough that Brom could see the shape waiting for him.

There was a stain in the corner of Morzan's mouth; dark and still wet. His eyes had been swallowed glimmered darkly, reflecting faintly in the light of the rising moon. His mouth curled and his fangs peeked out.

He was pissed. _Good_ , Brom thought and shifted his grip on the sword. He'd hate to be the only one.

"What did you do to me?" Morzan's voice was low and dangerous.

A normal human being would have responded to that tone by fleeing or trying to seek cover. Brom, however, had stopped being normal a long time ago.

"This is entirely your fault," Brom took great pleasure in telling him.

Morzan snarled and tried to fly at him, only to stumble when he hit the wards.

Brom put one foot in front of the other until he reached the edge of the terrace. All that separated him from Morzan was a handful of steps and the one thing he had left from Safina; his magic.

"You did this to us," he told Morzan. "If you want someone to blame, blame yourself."

Brom remembered well when he'd been close enough to see Morzan's eyes up close.

"No," Morzan said, voice so low it was almost a growl. "You did something to me. You wouldn't have come back otherwise."

"I came back to pick up your scent so I could hunt you down and kill you," Brom said bluntly. "Imagine my surprise when you were still here, lingering. _Ill._ "

Morzan snarled and flew at him again. Brom didn't even blink when Morzan hit the ward and rebounded. Morzan only barely managed to stay on his feet. His forehead was shining with sweat and he looked even paler than he had a scant few hours ago.

"I dare you to say that to my face," Morzan spat.

"As opposed to what I just did?" Brom drawled.

"You are a coward hiding behind childish parlour tricks!"

Brom's grip tightened around the sword. "Parlour tricks, hm?" Before he could stop himself or remind himself not to do anything stupid when a very powerful vampire was literally only a foot away from him, he had already started the incantation.

Morzan's eyes were piercing. Some part him, the part that his old Drake had bonded to once upon a time, seemed to recognise what Brom was doing even if he couldn't recognise the words. His bared his teeth, snapping something that Brom was too preoccupied to hear.

Brom backed up until one of his feet crossed the threshold. He raised the sword, still chanting the spell, and pressed his forearm against the edge of the blade. He jerked his arm and forced the words out past the pain, past the instant smell of dirty pennies that reached his nose. His stomach threatened to rebel, but he ignored that too.

Morzan stiffened, likely the moment the scent of fresh blood hit the air. His eyes flickered between Brom's arm and his face.

Good. Let him be unsettled. Maybe next time the bastard would think twice.

Brom threw the sword back into the room behind him and cupped his hand around the wound. He pulled his hand back only long enough to flick blood onto the terrace and the ground beneath his ancestral home. He finished his incantation by pressing a bloodied handprint against the outer wall of the house.

The effect was instantaneous. The protective barrier around the house shifted, splitting into two. The outer layer spread outward, encompassing the entire plot of land that belonged to the Teller name. The inner layer went tighter, digging into the walls, windows and doors of the structure and made their home.

Brom put his other foot across the threshold and leaned back before Morzan could puzzle out what he'd done.

Morzan stared at him and Brom stared back. He didn't even look away as he put his hand back on his forearm to stem the bleeding.

"I hope you got your fill earlier tonight," Brom told him. "It'll be your last meal in a while."

That seemed to snap Morzan out of whatever daze he had fallen into. Brom made a mental note to research how vampires reacted to the smell of different blood-types and familiarity. If nothing else, he needed something to keep himself occupied with for a while.

"What have you done?" Morzan growled as he flew forward, only to rebound once again off the barrier Brom had put into the walls of his home.

"Surely you can recognise a barrier spell," Brom drawled. "But to give you some credit, I did change it up. Two barriers instead of one. I have trapped you on these lands, but outside of these walls." He tried not to let his waning strength show as he sneered at the man that the fates had for some reason tied him to.

The rage on Morzan's face was enough to put a spring in his step for the next week, at the very least.

"How is that for parlour tricks?" Brom said before Morzan could open his mouth and slammed the door in Morzan's face.

-;-

As soon as the room stopped spinning, Brom did the only sensible thing he could considering the circumstances. He called the post office and had all his mail sent to his PO box in town and spared a second to be glad he didn't have a paper subscription. He also sent a general warning to the few friends he did have in town not to visit him. They likely thought he was doing something crazy with his magic again, which was a far better sight than them knowing what he was doing.

Brom wasn't sure what he was actually doing, if anyone got close or curious enough to ask. The only thing he did know was that his unexpected 'guest' – if the term applied – was none too happy with the present circumstances. He ranted and raved for hours on end. Brom had to turn up the sound on the radio until his ears nearly burst just to drown Morzan out. He snuck sleep during the hours Morzan was quiet and researched when he had the concentration for it.

It took a week for the pattern to break. Brom felt a flutter on the edge of his outer barrier and hurried to the nearest window to see who was stupid enough to visit him.

Surprisingly – or perhaps unsurprisingly – it was Murtagh.

It took Brom a minute to figure out the best course of action. He strapped the sword to his back before stepping outside. Having used the sword to strengthen the barrier spell meant it carried some of the residual energy. He could – if need be – use it to help others walk past the barriers without lowering them. He could also use it to keep Morzan at bay if he had to, though he'd been quiet for the past half-hour. If they were lucky, he'd fallen asleep. If not...

Murtagh waited patiently on the other side of the barrier, just by Brom's mailbox. He looked so alike his father, and yet he kept acting the exact opposite of him. It was...eerie.

"You've captured him," Murtagh said once Brom was outside of the barrier.

"You're a sharp kid," Brom said, eyeing him.

The kid looked surprisingly hale for having lived on his own for a week. Then again, Morzan didn't strike him as Father of the Year material. The kid was likely used to taking care of himself.

"What are you going to do to him?" Murtagh asked.

Brom found himself hesitating. The honest – and stupid – answer was that he didn't know. He had one of the world's most renowned and dangerous vampires trapped on his property, and he had no idea what to do with him. Brom blamed the small flicker of life that was only growing stronger inside of him with each passing day.

Of course, the longer he waited the likelier it became that he didn't have to do anything at all. Eventually Morzan was going to slip into a coma that he wouldn't awaken from. Soon after that, he'd die.

It was...an anticlimactic end for someone of his standing, to be sure, but a dark part of Brom almost appreciated the irony of that.

"I haven't decided," he said eventually.

Murtagh looked down, looking disappointed but not entirely surprised. That was when Brom noticed the backpack he was carrying.

"Going somewhere?"

Murtagh shrugged his – too-thin, really – shoulders. "If you're going to keep Father here, I may as well keep walking."

The thought of letting a growing full-blooded vampire wander around without supervision did not sit well with Brom. Murtagh wasn't an adult yet, meaning he had yet to properly settle into the vampiric diet. But it would happen sooner than later, shortly after puberty got hold of him. But until then...

The ideas that were forming in Brom's head were troubling, to put it mildly. But they were also plausible.

For all that Murtagh acted older than he was, he was still far too young to be on his own. His identity and sense of self weren't fully shaped yet. There were still formative years where he could and would listen to authoritative figures, providing Morzan hadn't scarred him too badly.

Think of it like an experiment, Brom thought to himself. Here was a full-blooded vampire, already having dipped his toes into the grooming process. Could he still...change?

"Or you can stay with me for a bit," Brom heard himself say.

Murtagh looked up, clearly shocked. Well, he wasn't the only one.

"At least until we figure out what to do with your father."

Murtagh hunched his shoulders slightly. He looked between Brom and somewhere off to the side, maybe where Morzan was taking a nap out of sight. He bit at his bottom lip and Brom found himself filing away the knowledge that Murtagh hadn't grown into his fangs yet. Maybe they came in later? It was possible.

Eventually, after what seemed like half an age, Murtagh nodded his head.

And just like that Brom had saddled himself with a ward.


	2. Part Two

Morzan didn't hesitate to let them know when he woke up. He also made no effort to hide that he knew Brom had taken Murtagh under his wing.

Brom was not surprised to hear that Morzan didn't approve one bit.

Murtagh looked deeply unsettled every time Morzan shouted at them through the barrier. Brom just took another sip of his tea.

"Has Father been doing that the entire time?" Murtagh asked, voice quieter than normal.

"When he isn't asleep," Brom answered and added, "The madness is probably starting to set in," before he could remember why that might not be the best idea.

The silence that followed almost seemed to echo.

Well, that proved that Morzan was actually paying attention to what they were saying. Brom briefly flirted with the idea of putting up a soundproofing spell, but discarded it. It went both ways and while it would be nice to silence Morzan's verbal abuse, at least this way he knew how far Morzan had progressed. And, not to mention, when it would be safe to go out to shop for food.

Murtagh was staring down at his own untouched tea. "So you know what's wrong with him, then?" he said, voice so soft that Brom almost couldn't hear him.

He paused. "I suspect."

"Are you going to kill him?"

Brom forced himself not to choke on air. This kid, honestly. He talked about death far too nonchalantly.

Curiously enough, Morzan was still quiet. A part of Brom wondered if he'd fallen asleep or if he was still listening in.

"I don't know yet."

-;-

"Father has been asleep for a long time," was the first thing Murtagh said when Brom stepped out of his bedroom some days later.

Brom paused. It was true that they hadn't heard much from him in the past couple of days. He'd thought Morzan was sulking after the conversation he'd overheard, but if what Murtagh said was true...

"You're sure?"

Murtagh looked at him. He nodded soundlessly.

Brom took a seat at the breakfast table and put his head in his hands. It was only seven in the morning. It was too early to make a decision between life and death.

He allowed himself a few moments to think and breathe. He wished sorely for coffee, but that was off the table now. Unless, of course, he took some drastic measures.

Measures, he realised, he wasn't sure whether he needed to take. Measures he could easily find out if he, preferably and arguably, should take. But it would have to be soon, if not now.

He looked up and found Murtagh staring at him. He pushed himself up slowly. "Wait here."

Brom didn't wait for Murtagh to answer before walking back the way he'd come. He brought out the heavy-duty medical bag from the master bathroom. He put it down on the kitchen counters and started to pull out everything he needed. He quickly fashioned a tourniquet, found a vein and slipped the needle under his skin. He then flexed his arm to get the blood flowing into the bottle on the other end of the tube.

Murtagh stared at him all the while, eyes wide.

"Don't look too much into it," Brom said brusquely. "It's an experiment."

Murtagh was still staring at him when he pulled the needle out carefully and quickly put a cotton-ball in its place. He wrapped it securely in place before turning back to what he'd been doing. He made sure to get as much out of the tube as he could before capping the bottle.

"Here," he said and held the bottle out for Murtagh to take.

Murtagh looked between him and it.

"It's for your father," Brom said. "Pour this into his mouth until he starts feeding on his own. Then run back here as quickly as you can. I'll let you back in."

There was a look in Murtagh's eyes that Brom hadn't seen before. There was a moment when he wondered if Murtagh was going to bat the bottle out of his hand or, worse, attack him for what he was suggesting.

"This is not me forgiving your father," Brom told him, voice clipped. "There is no forgiving that man." That, at least, he figured Murtagh would agree with. "But this is an answer I need in order to move forward."

Murtagh stared at him for another minute before slowly reaching out.

Brom didn't let go until he was sure Murtagh wasn't going to drop the bottle. And even then, he did it slowly. "You got it?"

Murtagh nodded mutely.

Brom forced himself to step past Murtagh and out into the living room. He grabbed onto the sword that now usually rested against one of the couches and didn't stop walking until he reached the terrace door. Only then did he turn around.

Murtagh was there. He'd followed Brom so silently that he hadn't heard him. _Damn vampires_.

"Ready?"

Murtagh's eyes were on his hand as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He held out the sword, in its scabbard now that it no longer needed to be unsheathed, and waited.

Murtagh was slow to move. He padded over, barefoot, and put a hand just below Brom's on the pommel. He then crossed the threshold and promptly let go.

He looked so small, Brom found himself thinking. Far too small for what Brom was asking him to do.

"Remember to hurry back here," Brom told him.

Murtagh just looked at him again, eyes wide and almost unseeing, before he walked off to where Brom presumed Morzan had passed out some days before.

The wait was agonizing. And yet he only had a moment to regret not bringing a sweater to protect him from the chill before he heard a vicious snarl and saw a small blur running towards him.

Brom didn't even hesitate. He reached out, grabbing the small hand that was reaching back as soon as it was within range and practically forcing the sword into Murtagh's arms as he pulled the kid inside.

And not a moment too soon. Morzan slammed into the barrier before Brom could even take a step back, Murtagh still in his arms.

Murtagh was shaking. Shaking and clearly scared.

Brom took the sword from him and tried to put himself between Murtagh and Morzan. Due to Murtagh clinging to his shirt, he only mostly succeeded.

Brom took a moment to steel himself before facing Morzan head on.

Morzan's eyes almost instantly went to the crock of his right arm. Brom suddenly remembered the second – and probably the more important – reason he should have put on a sweater first.

" _You._ "

"Me," Brom said as he put Murtagh more firmly behind himself.

Morzan bared his teeth, showing off what could only be traces of Brom's own blood. Dinner from the night before suddenly wanted to make a reappearance. Brom, firmly, told his body 'no way in bloody hell.'

"I will kill you," Morzan swore and Brom didn't doubt that he meant it.

Brom just stared death in the eyes and said, "Go ahead. I dare you."

-;-

Murtagh passed him a note a few days later. He hadn't said much since his trip outside to wake Morzan up, but he had yet to actually pass Brom a note. Usually he was able to gesture at or mime whatever he wanted. This was clearly different.

Brom looked at him, but Murtagh's mouth was pressed into a firm line. Whatever it was, he didn't want to say it out loud. Brom picked up the note and unfolded it.

Brom noticed Murtagh's handwriting before he read the words. It was a chicken-scrawl if he'd ever seen one, and not nearly as childlike as he'd been expecting. Still, it was a fair slight away from being nicely legible. He had a vague thought about schooling before the words on the page registered.

_Are you pregnant?_

Brom paused. He hesitated before looking up.

Murtagh looked unnervingly calm considering the weight of the question he'd asked. He just kept his eyes on Brom as he patiently waited for an answer.

Brom felt around for a pen and finally found one. He uncapped it and paused before the tip met the paper. He knew the answer. He knew undoubtedly that he was. But putting it to paper made it feel far more real.

 _Yes,_ he forced himself to write. It wouldn't be too much longer before Murtagh would be able to tell, so lying wouldn't do him any favours.

Murtagh frowned, looking between Brom's face and the paper. He wordlessly asked to borrow the pen and Brom relinquished it. Murtagh wrote, paper tilted slightly, producing the same chicken-scrawl as above.

 _Will it be like me?_ Murtagh asked before turning the paper towards Brom.

Brom fought the urge to put a hand on his abdomen.

 _No,_ he wrote. _And I think you know why._

Murtagh's frown deepened. He looked up and nodded a little haltingly.

 _Anything else?_ Brom wrote under that.

Murtagh shook his head. "Thanks," he said softly before walking out as quietly as he had entered.

Brom picked up the note and threw it into the fireplace, where he set fire to it. And while the evidence slowly turned the ash, the bad feeling lingered.

-;-

_"Do I want to know why there's a vampire stalking your grounds?"_

Brom jolted and banged his knee into the desk. He swore loudly and colourfully in a vain attempt to numb the pain.

Trianna, meanwhile, looked unimpressed. No change there, then.

"I thought I told you not to come around for a while," he growled as he tried to rub the pain away instead.

Trianna's face went sharp with anger.

Brom suddenly regretted his decision to keep the mirror in the study. It was great for when he didn't mind his friends casting a scrying spell to talk to him. It was not so great when he had a murderous vampire constantly hovering just outside the walls in hopes of killing him and a fledgling vampire wandering around in his house.

 _"Brom Doran Teller, you tell me right now that you had nothing to do with the current circumstances,"_ Trianna hissed.

Brom knew better than to argue with Trianna when she looked like this. He put a sound-cancelling spell on the room instead and waited for the inevitable.

"Trianna -"

 _"I can't believe you."_ Trianna's lips were pressed into a bloodless line.

"It's not what you think," he tried.

_"Oh, so you know what I think now?"_

"You know that's not what I meant," he said, but it visibly fell on deaf ears.

_"I think you're an overconfident ass who's in over his head."_

Brom rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Well, you may be right there."

Trianna paused. She narrowed her eyes at him. _"Who are you and what have you done with Brom?"_

Brom leaned back uncomfortably. "I am capable of admitting my mistakes, you know."

 _"Under pain of death, maybe,"_ Trianna said dryly. _"What have you done now? It must be serious if you're breaking pattern."_

"The less you know, the better." And the less Trianna would be tempted to go physically to the house and shove some sense into his skull.

Trianna pinched the bridge of her nose. _"Gods save me from clueless men."_

"That's why you like women, isn't it?"

Trianna just gave him a dry look. _"Will you need to be saved from yourself?"_

Translation: did Trianna need to come to Brom's rescue? Well, the answer to that was obvious. "No. I have this under control."

The look on Trianna's face let him know just how much she didn't believe him. _"I'll be checking in regularly,"_ she told him. _"And if you die, I want your family's bestiary."_

"I promised Tornac he could have it," he deadpanned.

Trianna just bared her teeth at him. _"He will have to fight me for it."_ And then she was gone.

Brom buried his head in his hands and groaned.

-;-

"He hasn't moved in a while," Murtagh said some days later, though it could easily have been weeks. Brom spent far too much time in his own head to be able to keep proper track of the time.

"I see." Brom closed the manuscript he'd been studying.

Murtagh just looked at him from the doorway.

"What do you want to do?" Brom found himself asking. "He's your father."

"He's your mate," Murtagh countered.

Brom snorted. "I hardly chose him."

"I didn't choose him either," Murtagh said, voice almost soft.

Brom found himself wanting to laugh. Here they were, two people irreparably touched by the great vampire Morzan, neither which had been chosen to be a part of his life. And now they were arguing about which one of them should be the one to decide between life and death.

"Has he always been the way I know him?" Brom heard himself say.

Murtagh frowned. "Yes," he said, "though he hasn't been this fascinated by someone before."

"That would be the bond talking," Brom said dryly.

Murtagh shook his head. "He was fascinated by you before. He would talk about you sometimes. Brom the great vampire hunter." He shifted on his feet slightly. "He'd talk about what he'd want to do to you if he ever got you."

Brom pushed himself out of his seat. "Well then, I think we have our answer."

Murtagh visibly startled.

Brom walked past him and made a beeline for his bathroom. He grabbed the kit from under the sink and went through what he now suspected was going to become a routine. He capped off the bottle and made sure to roll down his sleeve after taking care of the puncture mark.

Murtagh lingered in the doorway, looking caught between more emotions than Brom could count.

"Are you -"

"If he's been fantasising about torturing me for years, then it's only fair I return the favour," Brom said and held out the blood. "Are you ready for a repeat?"

Murtagh hesitated before grabbing the bottle. "He's not going to like this."

"Who said he had to?"

-;-

To say that Morzan hadn't 'liked' their interference was an understatement. Calling him furious would probably have been more appropriate.

"I should find a safe way to deliver the blood," Brom said as Morzan ranted and raved at the barrier. He was immensely glad that the sound-proofing was holding.

"That would be nice," Murtagh said from his place on the couch. He still looked shaken.

Brom didn't like that he'd used a child to do his bidding so far. Even if Murtagh's chances of getting away from Morzan unscathed far outweighed his own, it was no way to treat someone who had essentially become his ward.

Anyway, sooner than later Morzan's sense of self-preservation would kick in. He'd hesitate to kill Brom then, even if only for a second, and Brom wouldn't need more than that. They just had to wait. Then the supply runs would be a veritable piece of cake.

"I'll take the next run," Brom said. If they were lucky, the next one was months away.

More likely than not, it was only a matter of weeks.

"He'll kill you."

"He hasn't succeeded so far," Brom said dryly and closed the curtains. "I'd like to see him try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Brom's middle name: Doran is from an Irish surname which was derived from Ó Deoráin. Deoráin means "exile, wander" in Gaelic. I felt this fit because for most of his life, Brom has been "wandering" in a sort of self-imposed exile. During and after the war where he lost his dragon, Brom has been hunting down vampires. In the original Obs timeline, he hasn't been in Carvahall for more than ten years. Now he's jump-starting that gun just a little.


	3. Part Three

_"I know you said not to bother you,"_ Tornac said when he called.

Brom turned the silencing-charm back on. "What it is?"

 _"I just got off the phone with Carn,"_ Tornac said, and he sounded worried. _"Harald says the vampire community is getting restless."_

Brom walked over to the closest window and pushed back the curtain just enough to see. And there he was, predictably enough. Brom made a note to tell Morzan that the next time they spoke. He'd surely hate being called something as mundane as _predictable_.

"I may know something about that," Brom said and let the curtain fall back.

Tornac paused. _"Gods, Brom,"_ he breathed. _"What did you do?"_

"Nothing much," he said as he sat back down. "Yet."

Tornac swore in another language, too quick and too low for Brom to catch properly. _"Are you mad, man?"_

"Considering I'm trying to domesticate a feral vampire, I'd go with a solid yes," he said dryly.

There was a loud thump over the line; like Tornac had dropped something. _"You're WHAT?!"_

He turned his back on the window, even though he knew Morzan couldn't see him. "Taking Morzan out of commission once and for all."

 _"Merciful Gods,"_ Tornac said as though it pained him. _"Then why not just kill him?"_

Brom looked down at the notes he'd been writing over the weeks. He considered the life that was steadily growing inside of him and the one haunting his hallways, desperate for guidance.

"It's complicated," he said finally, voice rough.

Tornac was silent. _"Oh Brom,"_ he said, sounding almost frightened. _"Tell me you haven't."_

"It's better if we talk about this face to face," Brom said, getting up. "I can be there in half an hour."

There was a small, almost inaudible sigh of relief.

"Oh please, Holme," Brom said as he gathered the notes he'd need. "If I'd been turned, I'd tell you. If only so you could put me out of my misery."

 _"That does sound like something you'd do,"_ Tornac said reluctantly. _"I'll see you soon."_

-;-

"I'm going out for a short while," Brom said once he found Murtagh.

Murtagh tried to look indifferent to the statement, but he didn't quite pull it off. Brom did him the courtesy of not telling him. Next time. The kid deserved a free pass.

"I'll call the house if I get delayed."

Murtagh shrugged. "Ok."

Brom was struck by the sudden realisation that he was raising a teenager – one that wasn't his own, even. And he was doing a horrible job of it. If Tornac had seen him, he'd have given him more than a few choice words.

He held out a piece of paper. "This is the number to the man I'm going to see. In case you need to reach me."

Murtagh looked surprised.

"Do you know where the phone is?"

Murtagh nodded slowly. He looked between Brom and the paper like it was going to bite him.

"Good." Brom put the paper on the table in front of Murtagh. "I won't be gone long," he repeated.

Murtagh just nodded again.

Brom hesitated, but left once it became clear that Murtagh wasn't going to say anything else.

-;-

Tornac looked like he would have been less surprised if Brom had announced his decision to take up the dark arts. He sat down heavily and brought a hand to his forehead. "Oh," he said finally.

Brom focused on finishing off the herbal tea – Tornac's only non-caffeine brand currently in stock – while he waited for Tornac to finish reorganising everything he'd been told.

"Complicated is...an understatement, I think," Tornac said sometime later, still rubbing at his forehead.

"How do you think I feel?" Brom snorted and put the tea down. He forced himself not to look at the leaves at the bottom. He wasn't anywhere near as proficient as Angela in reading them. He'd only make himself more worked up if he tried.

"I suppose it's gone on long enough that you've made a choice," Tornac said, looking grim. "You're not killing him."

"I thought about it," Brom admitted. "A lot. Especially the first few weeks."

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know," Brom said honestly. "I think it's a combination of things. But maybe mostly Murtagh and the -" he gestured towards his abdomen.

"Speaking of," Tornac leaned forward, "you should get an appointment with Carn."

Brom grimaced. "When I'm ready."

"No," Tornac said firmly. "Soon. Or I'll call him myself."

"Why did I think it was a good idea to tell you again?" Brom said dryly.

"Because you're smart enough to realise when you need help?" Tornac offered, voice just as dry. "Even if you don't sound like it right now."

"Thanks," he drawled.

"I should come and stay with you for a -"

"Absolutely not," Brom interrupted.

Tornac gave him a tired look. "Gods know you don't know the first thing about raisings children, let alone prepubescents -"

"Morzan will tear you to pieces," Brom told him bluntly.

"How have you been escaping unscathed then, hm?" Tornac cocked an eyebrow.

Brom pointed his thumb at the sword that was resting oh-so-casually against Tornac's umbrella stand. "He can't touch me when I'm carrying that."

"Problem solved, then," Tornac said and got up. "We'll just have to take turns carrying it."

"No," he repeated. "Besides, we don't know how Murtagh's going to react."

"Relieved that he doesn't have to spend all his time alone with you, I'd imagine," Tornac delivered right on cue. "And I don't know how much you've told Trianna or Angela, but we'll calling them as well."

Brom shot to his feet. "No way in hell!"

"I'd pay to watch Morzan try to attack them," Tornac said as he went to his bedroom. "In fact, why don't you call them while I pack? That should give us a decent head-start."

Brom put his head in his hands and wondered just where his life had gone so wrong.

-;-

Murtagh clearly didn't know what to make of Tornac, but he seemed open enough to having someone else around the house. It probably helped that Tornac was human and lacked the taint of magic that oozed out of Brom.

They hadn't been at the house for more than an hour before the barrier warned Brom of visitors. Brom reluctantly got to his feet and went to open the front door.

Trianna looked pissed when she saw him. Her eyes were aflame and her hand was out; like she was physically holding someone back. The faint sounds of Morzan cursing somewhere off to the side told Brom all he needed to know.

Angela, always happy to act as Trianna's opposite, smiled when she saw Brom. "May we come in?"

Brom contemplated, for a blissful couple of seconds, to send them away. Then reality crashed in. "Do I have a choice?"

Angela's smile turned sharp. "No."

Brom wisely held up the door and let them in.

He sent Tornac and Murtagh off to get better acquainted while he guided the women to his office. That was hopefully far enough away from the living areas that Murtagh wouldn't be able to hear Brom get cussed out. Brom hoped that Murtagh lack of aggression – at least, so far – meant that Tornac was safe with him. He'd never forgive himself otherwise.

"I'm surprised you haven't called Carn yourself," Angela said once they were settled. "His advice, as well as Harald's, would be of great help to you now."

"Calling them would have meant admitting defeat," Trianna said sharply.

Brom felt his eye twitch and had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from answering.

"Not defeat," Angela corrected without taking her eyes off him. "Admitting that he'd reached a decision."

"It's never been done before," Brom heard himself say. "Domesticating a vampire this far gone."

"For a reason!" Trianna hissed, eyes flashing. "Everyone that's tried is dead!"

"They weren't me."

Trianna swore at him in the ancient tongue. Brom forced himself not to return the favour.

"I have the upper hand here," he said. "I'm his mate, I'm fostering his child -"

" _Carrying_ his child," Trianna snapped. "Good Gods, Brom."

"I'm not doing this for me," Brom began.

Trianna swore at him again, louder this time.

"Not just for you," Angela said, putting a hand on Trianna's arm. "Who wouldn't like to live a quieter life without having to constantly look over your shoulder?"

Brom had fantasied about that once. Then his dragon had been killed and reality had dragged him off, kicking and screaming. He hadn't been able to look back since.

"Are you willing to help me or not?"

"Of course," Angela said before Trianna could open her mouth. "But the real weight of the burden must rest on you. He won't tolerate us interfering."

"Of course not," Trianna said sourly. "We're encroaching on what he's starting to consider his territory."

Brom pinched the bridge of his nose. On one hand, that was good. It meant that his experiment was working. On the other, he wasn't sure what he felt about Morzan seeing the Teller ancestral land as 'his territory.'

"I probably just need your help spelling some items. For safety."

Angela was nodding before he'd finished speaking.

"You'll have to do the largest part of the cast," Trianna said gruffly. It was going to take a lot before she'd forgive him, Brom knew that. "Or the magic may not cooperate with you."

"I have cast spells before, Magii."

Trianna bared her teeth at him.

Angela shook her head at them. "Let us get started," she decided and got up. "I propose enchanting a smaller object that you can use to pass through the barrier. A sword, Brom?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

Brom refused to flinch. "It made sense at the time."

Trianna snorted loudly.

Brom reminded himself that she was one of his dearest friends, even if she made him want to tear his hair out most of the time.

-;-

Morzan had some choice words to say about his past and present company when Brom brought down the silencing barrier again. He blocked it out for the most part, though he filtered through the words to see what, exactly, Morzan was complaining about the most.

To his surprise, it wasn't the two witches and how they'd manhandled him to keep him back so they could come and go. It was Tornac.

Brom didn't know whether to feel amusement or despair that Morzan thought he was fucking one of his dearest friends.

Murtagh didn't stop blinking until Brom brought up the barrier again. "Is he your lover?"

Brom snorted. "He's my brother in everything but blood," he said. "The fact that he refuses to leave this house should tell you he feels the same."

Murtagh shrugged his bony shoulders. "It could also mean that he's your protective lover."

Brom barked a laugh. "He may be protective, but I'm hardly the only one it applies to. Stay here long enough and you'll see."

Murtagh still looked sceptical, but he thankfully let the matter go.

-;-

Thanks to Trianna and Angela, Brom had enough spelled items to give to anyone that might decide to stop by unannounced, regardless of the vampire stalking his backyard. As long as his friends remembered to keep their hands on their keys when they stopped by, there would be no mauling on his lands.

Hopefully.

He was coming back from giving one of the keys to Ajihad when he was met by Morzan lingering by the driveway.

Brom cocked an eyebrow. He'd kept the silencing barrier up for the most part. Listening to the same abuse-filled rant got boring very quickly. Rather than to ask Morzan what prompted his behaviour, he pulled out his key and checked his mailbox.

Morzan didn't speak.

Brom refused to let himself get unsettled by something as tame as a stare. He grabbed the junk-mail he found and put it promptly into the bin. He made a note to think about allowing actual mail to go to his mailbox again and made for the house.

Morzan stayed silent until he'd made it past the front yard and all the way up the stairs. Only then, as he was putting the key into the lock, did he speak.

"You're pregnant," he whispered.

Brom stilled, hand still on the key.

Morzan had moved. He was as close as the protective barrier was letting him. He could practically feel Morzan's breath on the back of his neck. "You probably didn't think I knew." The smirk was audible in his voice. "Oh, but I do."

"You sound awfully happy about it," Brom said. He still hadn't unlocked the door. "I didn't know you liked fatherhood that much."

That shut him up. It only lasted for ten or so seconds, but they were ten blissful seconds.

"It's mine," he whispered; like he was surprised.

"So I'm guessing the only reason they called you the great vampire Morzan is because of your great ego," Brom deadpanned, turning the key and pulling the door open. "It certainly wasn't your intellect."

Morzan gave a wordless snarl.

Brom turned to him and yanked the key out of the lock. "You don't scare me, Morzan," he said as he started to pull the door closed. "But I should scare you."

The abuse started up before Brom could close the door properly, but he didn't care. If anything, he felt vindicated for it.

The feeling lasted until he reached his office, and then he realised what he'd done. He'd told Morzan that the child was his. He'd either fucked up colossally or made his smartest move in a long time.

Something told him it wasn't the latter.

-;-

Tornac, as it turned out, hadn't been kidding when he'd threatened to call Carn. Brom quickly had himself an appointment to visit Carn's clinic, which had been delivered along with a very sternly worded letter that implied what would happen if Brom decided not to show.

That was how Brom found himself at the clinic later that week, debating with himself whether to heal the puncture mark – courtesy of a nurse insisting he needed a whole assortment of tests for some reason or other – or leave it alone. He was halfway ready to heal it – he wasn't particularly tempted to smell of blood when he made it back home – when Carn finally arrived.

"I thought you weren't meant to practice medicine on friends and family," Brom said.

Carn gave him a distracted smile. "You're a special case," he said as he flipped through the file.

"I'm flattered," Brom said flatly.

Carn grabbed the chair by the desk and rolled it over to the bed Brom had spent the past half an hour on, slowly losing the feeling in his ass. "Everything looks good," he said, finally looking up from the papers. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not cold anymore and the tiredness seems mostly gone."

Carn nodded. "Both are common symptoms in the first stage of a vampire-related pregnancy." He hesitated. "I talked to Tornac, but -"

"I am the vampire's mate," Brom cut in. "You don't have to worry about scheduling the delivery of a parademon."

"No, just a dhampir," Carn said, looking faintly worried.

Brom grimaced. "I loathe that term."

"It is the most accurate one," Carn told him.

He snorted. "I should apply for a teaching degree just so I can properly school you in all the ways you're wrong."

"It's smart to look into alternate ways of payment now that you have a little one on the way," Carn said and nodded like he actually approved.

Brom didn't point out that he wouldn't need to work another day in his life if he so wished. The inheritance his parents had left him was so large he wouldn't be able to spend it even if he lived for five hundred years. But maybe it would do him good, to find something else to occupy his time. As soon as the baby came there was no way he could go back to hunting. He'd end up missing the baby's life that way and if he really was determined to see the pregnancy through, then it wasn't so he could be a dead-beat dad at the end of it.

Being faced with the very real possibility of hanging up his sword – so to speak – wasn't as daunting as it would have been five, ten years ago. But it still left him reeling.

"Some of the tests won't be back for a while," Carn continued, blissfully unaware of the wake-up call he'd inspired. "I can call you with the results if you'd like, or you could come in for a follow-up appointment."

"The latter," Brom said. "Or Tornac will never let me live it down."

Carn flashed him a quick smile as he wrote something down in the file. "Now, do you want to hear the baby's heartbeat?"

Brom paused. It suddenly dawned on him how Morzan had known about the pregnancy. He'd heard the second heartbeat and drawn his own conclusions.

"All right," he found himself saying.

Carn smiled at him again and went to roll over the equipment.

Brom found that one of his hands had started to migrate and quickly ripped it away before anyone else saw.

-;-

To Brom's surprise, Morzan didn't have anything to say when he made it back from the doctor's. He frowned, but ultimately decided not to point it out.

Tornac asked him more questions about the visit than Brom knew the answer to. He hedged a handful of answers before heading to his room early. He still felt unsettled from before.

He spent the night mulling over the changes in his life and what was coming next, whether he wanted it to or not.


	4. Part Four

"He's been quiet for a while," Murtagh said reluctantly.

It had only been a few weeks since Tornac had moved in with them, but the change in Murtagh was enormous. Whatever they were doing when Brom was busy with his books was clearly working. Murtagh was starting to pull out of his shell. He said more now; sometimes out loud, but most commonly using pen and paper. Brom thought he was still scared of Morzan overhearing him, even if the barrier was up more often than not.

Brom sighed and pushed himself up. "Then I guess it's time."

Angela and Trianna had helped him to spell a smaller dagger that he strapped to his belt before even going for the blood he'd coincidentally drawn the day before. He tucked the hilt under his shirt to rest against his skin.

"Not going to take the sword this time?" Tornac asked. He clearly meant it as a joke, but he didn't quite pull it off.

"I told him I wasn't afraid of him," Brom said as he grabbed the bottle. "This is me showing it."

Murtagh looked worried.

"There's a fine line between caution and stupidity, Brom," Tornac said. "You're walking the line."

"Harsh," he said dryly. "I'll be fine."

"Because of the heartbeat?" Murtagh asked.

Brom paused. He had told Tornac how things were progressing because Tornac had asked like the worrywart that he was, but he hadn't said anything to Murtagh. Then again, Murtagh was a growing vampire with all the senses to show for it. He didn't need to be told.

"We'll see," Brom said because he had to say something. And before someone could call him on the vague answer, he stepped through the terrace doors and shut them behind him. Then he started walking.

Finding Morzan wasn't hard, all things considered. Murtagh had told him the previous locations Morzan had been in, but Brom hadn't bothered to check any of them. Morzan, for all that he was predictable, didn't want to appear like it. He'd find another spot to fall into the coma-like sleep.

Brom found him under the terrace decking. He sighed at having to crouch down but considered himself lucky that at least he wasn't currently weighed down by a bloated stomach.

Morzan looked different asleep. His face was smoothed out, devoid of the usual murderous aura he emanated when he was awake. As much as Brom hated to admit it, it was a much better look on him.

"All right, you asshole," Brom said as he stopped next to Morzan's prone form. "Dinner time."

Brom uncapped the bottle and kept it in his other hand as he slowly reached down and tucked his shirt between the dagger's hilt and his skin. The barrier around him was now gone, even if he couldn't feel it. His heartbeat kicked up another notch, but that was fine. Just fine.

Brom put the bottle to Morzan's mouth and tipped it. Morzan's jaw was slack enough that Brom just had to guide his chin slightly to get the blood down his throat rather than all over his face.

For a minute, nothing happened. Then the bottle was out of his hands and he was being slammed into the cold, hard ground.

"Too easy," Brom heard.

He didn't give himself the time to think. He just reached, grabbing onto the dagger and pulling it free with a slashing motion. He didn't care that the shirt tore. He had more pressing concerns.

Morzan disappeared from on top of him, slamming up into the top of the decking. When he fell, the barrier guided his fall firmly away from where Brom was lying.

Brom turned just in time to see Morzan give him a wide-eyed stare. He clearly hadn't been expecting Brom to fight back. Good. Maybe now he'd finally have learned his lesson.

"I told you," Brom said, staring at him coolly. "You can finish that on your own."

He kept his hand on the dagger the whole way out and he didn't let it go until he was safely inside the house again.

-;-

Tornac spent the better part of an hour reprimanding him. Brom let him. His heart still hadn't quite recovered from the encounter with Morzan. He let Tornac rant himself dry before excusing himself.

There was a soft knock on his door sometime later.

"Come in."

He wasn't entirely surprised to see Murtagh opening the door just enough to slip inside. Tornac, after all, wouldn't know subtlety even if it bit him in the ass, let alone knock when he was on the war-path.

Murtagh crossed the room and held out a piece of paper. Brom frowned as he unfolded it. _I'm sorry_ , the chicken-scratch said.

Brom sighed and reactivated the silencing wards. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I should have gone in your stead," Murtagh said with more fire than Brom was expecting.

"No." Brom crossed his arms. "It was time I showed Morzan that I'm not afraid of him."

It didn't look like Murtagh agreed with that very much.

"We're irrevocably tied, your father and I," he said. "I need him to know that I'm not going to bend to his will or see him as superior to me. And the only way I can do that is to face him in these small ways, at least while I still can."

Murtagh's eyes flickered to his mid-section. "Because you won't be able to soon?"

Brom nodded.

Murtagh folded his arms over his chest. He wasn't as thin as he had been when Brom had first met him. Brom had no doubt that Murtagh had been taking care of himself as well as he could before, but now there was someone actually looking after him and it showed.

"You should still be careful," Murtagh said. He was starting to sound more like the sullen teenager he might one day become if he wasn't careful himself.

"I am."

Murtagh didn't look entirely convinced but seemed willing to let it drop – at least for now.

-;-

"Do you want to know the gender?"

Brom paused. He hadn't realised the pregnancy had progressed to the point where Carn could determine the gender of the foetus.

It dawned on him suddenly that he'd been living with a vampire on his grounds for three months already. That was somehow stranger than the fact that he was pregnant, though he suspected that would change as he got further along and the pregnancy became more visible.

He nodded at Carn.

Carn smiled. "Congratulations, it's a girl."

Brom didn't know how he felt about that. He still didn't know how he felt about being pregnant, let alone courtesy of a vampire. But a daughter? He had imagined having a family once; before everything had started to fall apart. Perhaps it was the stereotype in him, but he'd imagined a son. An heir, even though he never planned on teaching his children how to be a hunter.

Now, however...it felt strangely right.

"She is developing normally," Carn continued.

Something inside him relaxed.

"No sign of her other half kicking in?"

Carn hummed and shook his head. "Not at this early stage. I can tell you, though, that you're in for a treat during her teenage years."

Brom blinked as the implication set in. "Dual maturation?"

"Oh yes," Carn said as he pulled back the ultrasound wand and pressed a few buttons on the machine.

Brom was suddenly reminded of the vampire he was housing. There was a conversation he and Tornac needed to have with Murtagh, it seemed. Or, if he was sneaky enough, he could get Tornac to do it. He certainly had a better connection with the boy. Murtagh would probably appreciate it if his father's reluctant mate wasn't the one giving him the 'your body and you' talk.

"Is there anything written about this?" Brom asked.

Carn shook his head. "Not with the seriousness it deserves or in the quantity that we honestly need, for a proper study."

Brom started to get himself cleaned up. "I guess people aren't all that interested in signing up to be studied."

Carn sighed. "No. Which is understandable, of course, though any material is always confidential and anonymous." He turned to Brom. "Would you like some pictures to take home? A DVD maybe?"

Brom paused. "I guess one picture couldn't hurt."

He pressed a few more buttons. "All right, you can pick it up at reception."

"Thanks," Brom said as he zipped up his pants. He hesitated. "How would I sign up?"

Carn looked surprised.

"I'm sure you need pregnancy data too."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Brom nodded. "Then I'll sign on. But -"

"Nothing after the pregnancy is concluded, of course."

Brom nodded again. "We can revisit the issue then."

He said his goodbyes to Carn before going to the reception to pay for his appointment. And pick up his picture. He made a follow-up appointment in a half-daze, trusting Carn to call ahead and remind him when it was time even if he didn't forget.

Brom didn't trust himself to look at it until he'd stepped out of the clinic.

It was only a picture in the strictest sense. Black and white wavy lines inside a white border and his details carefully printed around the edge. He wouldn't even know what he was looking at if Carn hadn't explained it to him.

Those lines were his daughter.

A girl. He was having a girl.

He stared at the picture for a long moment before carefully slipping it into his wallet. Then he headed off, aiming for the edge of town rather than home, and somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for a while.

-;-

The Teller family had a crypt in the largest and oldest of Carvahall's cemeteries, which was the one furthest from the city proper. Most old churches were small, and Carvahall's lake church was no different. The cemetery plots, however, were huge. No one wanted to build anything so close to the Spine. The spindly trees and jagged mountain tops gave off an air most people shied away from.

Brom had hated visiting the crypt when he was growing up and he still hated it. But it was the one place where his family's magic was as seeped into the ground as the Teller grounds. And it was the one place he could remember his family in peace these days.

He hadn't told Tornac or Murtagh where he was going. He wasn't even sure they knew he'd gone. The two of them had fallen into their own little clique and Brom couldn't berate them for that. Murtagh was likely grateful to have someone other than his father's mate and nemesis to talk to. And Tornac, well, he'd always had a soft spot for kids. Especially the wounded ones.

Morzan had stared after him when he'd left, though. Brom didn't know what had been going through his mind and, frankly, he didn't care.

Brom hadn't visited the other crypts next to the Teller plot, but had at some point wondered if and how they differed from the one belonging to his family. The room wasn't large by any means, but it was large enough to warrant a proper door rather than a simple gate. The oldest family members were marked by seven weathered stone tombs; three on one side of the room and four on the other. Other family members had their urns placed in small alcoves in the walls above the stone tombs.

Towards the very back of the crypt was the only marker for the remainder of the Teller clan. Brom stared at the wall, which commemorated the newest members of the Teller clan that had been buried in Carvahall – in body or spirit. He'd wondered, when he's been younger and more naïve, what future Tellers would do when there was no more wall left to mark. Then he'd gone cynical and dark and thought his name would be the last one on the wall.

Now he'd leave at least one tangible legacy behind.

He stared at his parents' plaques. Doran Alastar Teller and Siobhan Treasa Teller. They'd died before he could graduate. At least he'd been legal and able to skip going into foster care.

"I don't know what you'd think of me if you could see me now," he said.

His father had been the one to teach him about their hunter family history, but his mother had been the one to pick up the mantel. It was her stories and her hand-to-hand teachings he'd fallen back on when the war had come to pass. He liked to think he'd known them well enough to say they wouldn't hate him for what had befallen him, but he'd been a child when they'd passed – legal age be damned. He hadn't really known them.

He lingered on his mother's name. He hadn't noticed her middle name before. He made a note of it before turning around and walking out of the crypt.

The door shut with a heavy _clank_ behind him.

-;-

Murtagh wrinkled his nose when Brom came back. "You smell weird."

"Grave-dirt," Brom said as he knocked his boots together one last time before closing the front door.

Murtagh frowned. "Oh."

Tornac gave him a pointed look.

Brom pretended not to notice as he put his boots aside.

He vaguely heard Tornac send Murtagh off to do something or other. It was clearly meant to serve as a distraction for the boy, even though he'd likely still be able to overhear them if he stayed close enough.

"You find out the gender of your child and your first stop is the family crypt?" Tornac shook his head.

"How do you know I wasn't there to visit Selena?"

Tornac paused, looking caught.

He'd stopped by Selena's grave to brush some leaves and dirt off and to check on the flowers, but Tornac didn't need to know he had stopped by the crypt first and foremost.

"You know, I heard her family moved to Teirm," Tornac said. "You could go and visit."

Brom snorted. "What right do I have?"

"You were -"

Brom held up a hand sharply. He hadn't reactivated the wards. Morzan could be listening to their every word. There was no love lost between them, but that didn't mean Brom wanted to see if mentioning past lovers would set Morzan off.

Tornac grimaced as Brom brought the wards up again. "Sorry."

Brom shook his head. "I should have done it earlier."

Tornac still looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I keep forgetting he's there even when I know I shouldn't."

"You're lucky," Brom said dryly. "I couldn't forget even if I tried."

Tornac tried for a smile that he couldn't quite pull off. "No, I imagine not." He paused. "But you could visit her family, you know."

"No," Brom said shortly. "I forfeited that right a long time ago."

Tornac sighed and shook his head.

"Even if I hadn't, I wouldn't do them the dishonour of showing up pregnant."

Tornac gave him a disappointed look. "Brom -"

"Her brother hates me," he interrupted.

"It's been, what, five years since you saw him? Surely -"

Brom snorted. "He'll hate me until the day we're both dead." He paused. "Possibly longer. Garrow is certainly stubborn enough."

Tornac sighed again. "You'll never know unless you talk to him."

"Oh yes, I can." Brom told him a brisk good night before walking off, never mind that he hadn't eaten dinner yet.

It didn't matter. He could eat later. Anything to escape a conversation he was never going to be ready to have. Selena was a sore subject and always would be, and that was without bringing her brother's antagonistic feelings into it.

-;-

Selena Fram had been a whirlwind of a woman. Brom had loved no one before or after her – though he had a feeling the child growing inside of him might change that.

Like Brom, Selena and her brother had lost their parents early – also because of the cursed war. Unlike Brom's parents, Selena's hadn't lost their lives fighting. They had been casualties; killed simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Selena had joined the war efforts after that – in as much as they could be called that, given that the authorities wouldn't cave and declare it a proper war until almost a year after her death. She had been fierce on the battlefield. Brom had known her before and fallen in love with her temper then, but he'd fallen all over again when he'd seen her fight.

Garrow, who hadn't been able to join in due to being confined in a wheelchair, hadn't approved of their fleeting romance. Brom didn't think it was because he had blood on his hands or his family's history of dying young, but he'd never asked either. Some questions were better left unanswered.

Still, Garrow had respected their relationship enough to call with the news when Selena died unexpectedly. Garrow had never told him why and a part of Brom hated him for it. She'd disappeared during a lull in the skirmishes and hadn't returned when they picked up again. She'd never called to tell him why either, probably because she knew he would have gone to her and she knew he was needed elsewhere.

But Brom would never know because there were a million questions he'd never gotten the chance to ask her.

Sometimes he wanted to hate her. Things had felt better before he'd fallen head over heels for the girl that didn't hesitate to punch a bully in the face – and later the woman that did the same in battle, only with a dagger in her hand. But then he'd have to hate the love she showed him, and Brom could never do that. She deserved better.

Brom sighed. He put away the one picture of her that he'd kept through the years. The ten-year anniversary – if it could be called that – of her passing was approaching fast. He'd have to remember to actually do something for it, for once. Maybe bring her some flowers – or pour out some of her favourite liquor. She would probably have appreciated that more.

The house was silent around him as he did a final sweep before heading for the bedroom. He paused when he noticed that one of the curtains was pulled back slightly. He walked over and pulled it shut sharply, not even allowing himself to look outside. After all, what was the point? He knew what lurked in the shadows. He didn't need to see Morzan to know he was dogging his every step.


	5. Part Five

Brom knew it was only a matter of time before the powder-keg blew. Vampires like Morzan didn't just go missing. They reported back, or at the very least were seen or heard from through rumours or a spike in recent murders. Morzan, however, had been off the grid for months now. Someone was about to come looking for him, and soon.

He waited until Tornac had taken Murtagh out of the house for a few hours to do something Brom knew Tornac had told him, but whatever it was escaped him. Then he stepped out onto the terrace and waited.

Morzan didn't make him wait long.

Brom spoke before he could. "We're going to have to address the elephant in the room at some point."

Morzan looked at him with something Brom refused to identify. "You mean Selena?"

Brom wasn't going to dignify that with an answer. "What is your current standing with the Council?"

Morzan looked at him for a long moment. "Are you worried about me or you?"

Brom rolled his eyes. "What do you think?"

Morzan fell silent again.

Brom took a few seconds to study him. Morzan had been living out on his property for a while now. There was a gardening and general tool shed further back on the property, with a utility shower that Morzan thankfully seemed to be using. His clothes looked a little worse for wear, though. Not that Brom cared. He was just...noticing.

"The Council will come for me one day," Morzan said finally. He didn't sound particularly happy about it. "Me and the child. They value purebloods."

"Well, you're tainted now," Brom said. "Should I tell them that when they come?"

"Only if you want to die," Morzan snarled.

"Why Morzan, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't," was the immediate reply.

Brom didn't call him out on it. They both knew it wasn't the whole truth; like they both knew that Brom was holding something back. It was easier that way.

-;-

Brom decided to take advantage of the relative quiet to visit Ajihad. Ajihad lived with his daughter closer to Ceunon, though still within the Carvahall city border. They'd lived there ever since Ajihad's wife had died.

Ajihad looked surprised to see him.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all." Ajihad opened the door wider. "Come in."

The house was conspicuously silent when Brom stepped inside. "Your daughter?"

"On a play-date at the neighbour's place. She won't be back till six." Ajihad gestured in the direction of his sitting room.

Brom wondered briefly how Morzan was going to react when he came back smelling of werewolf. He didn't let himself dwell on the thought for more than a second or two. If Morzan had any issues with Brom's friends, then that was his own damned problem.

Ajihad took a seat in the loveseat by the unlit fireplace. Brom sat it one of the chairs opposite.

"What's on your mind?"

Brom didn't know where to begin. "How much do you know about what's going on?"

"What you've told me. And what I can understand of Tornac's rapid-fire chatter."

Of course Tornac had been calling Ajihad. They were good friends as well. Brom made a mental note not to ask what Tornac had told Ajihad.

"Have you heard any chatter in town about mysterious appearances?" he asked. "Or disappearances?"

Ajihad shook his head. "It's been pretty quiet. If anything, people are wondering what's got you cooped up at the old place," he added. "If you want to lessen suspicion, you might want to show your face around town more."

Brom grimaced. That was the last thing he wanted. "People know I'm a reclusive bastard."

Ajihad arched an eyebrow. "Reclusive bastards have to suffer gossip."

"Why? There are much more interesting things in town than me."

"Name them," Ajihad countered.

Brom opened his mouth and was surprised to realise he couldn't think of a single thing.

Ajihad had the grace not to look outwardly smug. "That's what I thought." That didn't stop Brom from hearing it in his voice, however.

"Being smug doesn't suit you."

"Being right does," he countered.

Brom told himself he was getting too old to roll his eyes, even though he wanted to.

"Still," Ajihad said, "I'll keep an ear to the ground."

Brom nodded his thanks.

"You should be careful," Ajihad added as Brom rose to take his leave.

"So everyone keeps telling me," he said wryly.

Ajihad said nothing, but that was all right. Brom knew what he was thinking. It was just that he didn't have time to be careful. Not yet. There was still too much at stake.

-;-

Brom knew that something was wrong the very moment it happened. There was a flicker against the barrier and a vicious snarl from Morzan.

He was running before he could tell himself to move. He grabbed the sword on his way out of the room and didn't stop until he reached the edge of the terrace. He quickly spotted the problem. They were lingering at the border of the Teller lands, far enough away that he couldn't distinguish any of their features, but he didn't need that when the moon was out. Their eyes gave them away.

 _Vampires_.

"You are not welcome here," Brom said, raising his voice even though he knew he'd been heard.

One of them gave a throaty chuckle before appearing closer to the terrace – likely as close as she could get with the barrier keeping her at bay. She was clearly looking at him. "Oh, what do we have here? Two for the price of one."

Her two compatriots quickly appeared next to her. Brom couldn't say for sure, but it looked like at least one of them was male. The other could be either or neither.

Brom brought the sword down in front of himself and rested his hands on the pommel. He was tempted to go right up to them and skewer them with the sword, but there was something to be said for an intimidating tactic too. And while his magic was clearly holding, there was no reason to tempt fate. "You are welcome to try coming at me," he told them.

Between one blink and the next, Morzan was standing between him and the trio. He hadn't penetrated the barrier that the sword kept in place, but he was as close as he could get. There was an ugly look on his face that Brom hadn't seen before.

"Morzy, don't you want to share?"

"No," Morzan snarled. "He is mine to kill."

"I'm flattered," Brom drawled.

Morzan didn't even look his way, let alone acknowledge that he'd spoken.

"Oh, won't you let him out to play?" the woman said in a sultry voice. Brom could practically picture her pout.

"Morzan is on my lands. I will release him if and when I see fit," Brom told her brusquely.

The vampires were silent.

"The Head won't be pleased about this, Teytor," the male vampire said after the silence had started to drag on.

"Only the head?" Brom couldn't stop himself from saying. "What about the rest of the body?"

The silence that followed was practically palatable.

"The Head of the Council," the man said like he thought Brom was stupid.

Brom smiled at him. It wasn't a nice smile. "Oh, I'm aware."

Another silence.

"Now, I don't like repeating myself but something tells me you were too stupid to catch it the first time around, so pay attention this time." Brom, even though he knew he was being reckless, sent a spark of magic through the barrier. It forced the vampires back a step. "Get the hell away from my property."

The three unnamed vampires were still for a long moment before one after the other they started to meld back into the shadows they'd stepped out from. One of them lingered behind.

"You'll be hearing from us," the other female vampire said. Her voice was cold and detached, wholly unlike that of her companion. Brom couldn't say with certainty that she meant Morzan and figured she'd done that intentionally.

As soon as they were gone, Brom picked up his sword and left before Morzan could say another word.

-;-

Trianna and Angela showed up without Brom prompting them to the next day. Trianna sniped at him while she went over the wards. Angela, meanwhile, seemed content to check Brom over for any magically related injuries.

"- and you know casting large spells during this part of your pregnancy is dangerous not just for you, but for the baby as well!"

Angela gave Brom a half-smile as she pulled back her hands. "You're both in fine health, as far as I can tell."

"Thank you," Brom said gruffly.

"But Trianna's right. You need to be more careful."

Brom only just caught himself from waving off her concern. He knew it would only make things worse.

"I would schedule a check-in with Carn as well, just to be safe," Angela added.

"Yes, yes," Brom said dismissively.

"I mean it," Angela said firmly.

"Oh, I'm aware."

Tornac shook his head faintly in the background. "I'll make sure he goes."

"See that you do," Trianna said dryly.

"I really don't need to be fussed over," Brom said as he pushed himself up.

Three people stared at him with varying degrees of disbelief on their faces, ranging from Trianna (the most) to Angela (the least). The fact that Trianna's expression beat Tornac's wasn't a surprise in spite of the fact that Tornac tended to take everything a little more seriously than Brom thought he should. Brom knew exactly how little faith Trianna had in him, after all.

"We'll stop by once a week to check the wards," Angela said, though it sounded more like a threat than a statement.

"That's really not -"

"Thank you," Tornac said, talking over him. "Though at this point you should probably be introduced to Murtagh. So he knows who you are."

"Yes. Your..." Trianna was clearly looking for a polite word for the situation, which was a surprise in and of itself. Trianna rarely believed in things such as pleasantries. It was likely the look on Tornac's face that did it. For all that they sniped and had a veritable rivalry, they did respect one another. "Ward," was the word she settled for.

"He hasn't started to mature yet," Brom reminded her.

"I should imagine not, or I think even you wouldn't be dumb enough to keep him around," Trianna drawled.

"He's a child," Tornac said tightly, his voice an inch away from sounding snappish.

Trianna didn't blink. "That will become a vampire in due time. Don't you forget that."

"We're teaching him what he needs to know to make it through the process as painlessly as possible," Brom said.

Trianna's lips pursed, but she didn't speak.

"He deserves a chance." Tornac's expression was cold; colder than Brom had seen him since the war. The glimmer in his eyes dared Trianna to try to change his mind. "He's no more responsible for his state of being than any of us."

The silence that followed was vaguely uncomfortable.

Brom was suddenly glad that Murtagh had gone to bed some hours before. He hoped the boy was still asleep.

Trianna and Angela left shortly thereafter. Brom knew he didn't imagine the tight look on Tornac's face in the aftermath. He knew the tension would likely blow over soon, but Tornac had grown awfully close to the boy in the months since they'd both come to live with Brom. Tornac and Trianna had said far worse to each other and made up in a matter of days, if not hours.

He hoped that this time, though the tension had been higher, wouldn't be what broke the pattern.

-;-

"Everything looks normal," Carn said and turned off the ultrasound-wand.

Brom grunted his thanks when Carn held out some tissues he could wipe his stomach with.

"Still, I'm glad you decided to stop by."

Was it really stopping by when he'd been bullied into making the appointment? Somehow Brom doubted it.

"Because I used my magic?" Brom asked dryly.

"No," Carn looked at him, "though you really shouldn't be doing any major spells during the remainder of your pregnancy, to be safe."

"And if I have to, to stay safe?" Brom countered.

"You forget that we have the same friends," Carn told him. "Ask the girls for help. Trianna, especially, would be more than happy to lend you a hand."

"Only so she can hold it over my head later," Brom said as he finished getting dressed.

"Did I say otherwise?"

Brom didn't see a reason to answer that and so kept his mouth closed.

"I wanted to ask you some questions about how the pregnancy has fared so far," Carn said, unconcerned about Brom's silence.

"Right. For your," he gestured, "journals."

"The medical literature, yes," Carn said and grabbed a clipboard from his desk. "Do you have time today?"

Brom thought the echoing house waiting for him, the adolescent vampire that hung onto his and Tornac's every word and the other vampire that skulked in the shadows, watching and waiting.

He made the decision that Morzan's patience could do with a proper work-out. And besides, it wasn't like Carn's questions would take up hours of his time.

Probably.

"What were your questions?"

-;-

"I have to ask," Tornac said, though he didn't look particularly happy about it. "Are you planning on keeping him around for the entire pregnancy?"

Brom had known the question was coming. The thing was, he still didn't know if he had an answer.

There were risks and rewards to consider. The risks of keeping a vampire around practically wrote themselves. If there was even one gap in the shielding, Morzan would break through and kill him. And that was the best-case scenario. And the rewards largely surmounted to having a lethal attack-dog bound to his property, keeping any other vampires from breaking in. Though one could hardly say that Brom had the man at his beck and call. Morzan was not someone to let himself be ordered around. After all, why else would he leave the Council and all its benefits?

No matter the imbalance between the risks and rewards, there was very little else Brom could do. The fledgeling bond between them saw to that.

"In an ideal world, I would've staked him already."

Tornac's mouth twisted. "But this not being an ideal world..."

It pained him to admit it, finally, but... "Yes. I think I am."

Tornac sighed.

They were in the living room and all the curtains and blinds were closed, but Morzan's presence seemed to hang over them like a ghost. Truthfully, Brom would have preferred the ghost. At least those he could vanquish with little to no remorse. If people lingered, then there was a reason; and nine times out of ten that reason was not good.

"He's getting territorial," Tornac pointed out.

Brom had noticed. Morzan had lingered in the shadows before, watching, but now he took to standing visibly by the house whenever someone walked by. Brom knew this because his neighbours had been kind enough to inform him, and because he'd come back from no less than two check-ups so far to find Morzan clearly waiting for him and glaring at anyone else nearby.

Brom kept his voice deliberately even when he said, "Unfortunately, that's a good thing."

Of course, that wasn't enough to curb Tornac's shock. " _Gods_ , Brom."

"I need him to become territorial of this land, me, and the child. Then I can let him go."

Tornac looked a little sick to the stomach. Then again, he wasn't the only one.

What Brom was doing was unprecedented. Most people that found themselves mated to vampires either found themselves dead shortly thereafter or were forced to kill their would-be other half in blatant self-defence. Only a very small percentage managed to push past the instinctual need to feed/feast/kill and move onto the protective stage of the bond.

Brom knew Harald's bond with Carn was even more of an anomaly. It took immense strength to lead a more docile vampiric lifestyle before meeting your mate and therefore automatically cancelling out the want/need/urge to feed off of others, but Harald – in spite of being bitten, even – had managed. The only reason he'd even met Carn was because Carn had – foolishly, Brom had thought at the time – signed himself up for a voluntary vampire-feeding program.

It was amusing in a way, Brom thought, that a vampire's worst enemy was ultimately themselves. If they were ever mated, they would likely end up killing their mate and thus triggering their own demise.

"He could still come back to kill you," Tornac said, as though the idea didn't haunt Brom during his every waking hour.

Still. Brom wasn't a renowned vampire-hunter for nothing. "If he does, I'll just have to kill him first."

-;-

"You can't keep me here forever."

It was like Morzan had been listening in on his and Tornac's conversation the day before. Luckily Brom knew the barrier spell had been up at that point. Still, the coincidence was eerie. Almost too eerie.

"I'm certainly not planning on it," he said.

Morzan looked surprised.

"Keeping you here would be seen as an act of aggression against the entire vampiric community," Brom said. "And while I've killed my fair share of your lot, I am in no way, shape or form planning to start a war."

Morzan most likely noticed he was staring like an idiot because he quickly smoothed over his expression. "Of course," he drawled, eyes making a quick sweep of Brom's torso.

The implication did not go unnoticed. "These are my lands, Teytor," Brom growled at him. "My ancestral magic is in the very earth here. It would take someone far stronger than your so-called _vampire king_ to break my hold over them."

Morzan's pupils expanded slightly, which was how Brom noticed he hadn't drawn the usual vampire sheen over them. He'd never seen them bare before. Morzan had heterochromia, he realised. One eye was so dark it looked black while the other was a pale it bordered on white.

"You'd do well to keep from underestimating me."

Morzan said nothing.

Feeling vaguely unnerved from the stare, but unwilling to let it show, Brom simply stared back.

When Morzan finally moved, it was to flash a smirk that showed the barest hint of a fang.

Brom decided he'd had enough. He turned around and slammed the terrace door shut behind him. He imagined he could hear Morzan laughing, but brought up the barrier before he could be sure.


	6. Part Six

Brom decided to ignore Morzan's existence for a few days. It didn't help that his hormones were fluctuating – or so Carn told him. He also said it was completely normal, especially considering how far Brom was along.

Brom didn't care if it was normal or not; he wanted it to stop.

Objectively, he knew Morzan was a handsome man. Only, he wasn't a man. He was a vampire; an unholy combination of menace, predator and _killer_.

(The fact that he was also Brom's mate didn't factor in. Not after everything they'd been through, everything Morzan had _done_.)

He meditated most of his... _problems_ away. The rest he ignored or killed with cold showers. It was strange to be feeling those kinds of things again. He'd been numb after Selena's death and even number during the war. A part of him had almost forgotten what _that_ felt like.

Brom had no problems cursing Morzan for reminding him.

-;-

"Is there a reason the resident cryptid is looking particularly gleeful this morning?" Trianna drawled when she and Angela stopped by.

There was a snarl from outside. Judging by the motion of Trianna's hand, she was holding Morzan back even though Brom had explicitly made her and Angela keys that they could use to get through the barrier untouched. Brom held in a sigh and decided not to question it, for the sake of his sanity.

"No," he answered, most likely a beat too slowly. He forced his expression to remain blank.

Angela narrowed her eyes faintly. Her expression quickly shifted into one of understanding. "Ah, I see. It's that time."

Brom didn't want to ask what she was talking about, particularly since he had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew.

Trianna arched an eyebrow. "That time?"

Angela smiled innocently. Brom knew better than to trust that smile.

"Did you want to come in or not?" he deadpanned.

Angela patted his cheek as she walked past him.

Trianna did something with her fingers before releasing the spell. Brom really didn't want to know how that motion correlated to actions in the real world. He closed the door instead before Morzan could try – fruitlessly – to retaliate.

"Do I want to know why you're here?"

Angela looked to Trianna.

Trianna often looked bored whenever she came around, even though Brom knew she loved visiting. She always stopped by the library and wouldn't stop badgering Brom about releasing the ward around the armoury. Brom wished her the best of luck; those wards weren't coming down short of another war erupting. There was a reason the Teller family kept their armoury in the basement and sealed off any access to it.

Now, however, Trianna looked almost uncomfortable. She pursed her lips. "Holme here?"

The last time the two of them had been in a room together was still fresh in Brom's mind. He wasn't sure he was itching for a repeat.

His hesitation must have been visible on his face, for Angela slipped her arm through Trianna's and said, "Anna is here to apologise."

" _Angie_ ," Trianna hissed.

Angela didn't even blink. She just smiled at Brom like everything was right in the world.

Brom bit back another sigh and reminded himself that, even though past experiences dictated that Trianna and Tornac were more likely to shout at each other than to apologise, he should at least give them the benefit of the doubt. And if it came to blows, he knew Angela wouldn't hesitate to get between them.

Now, more than ever, did Brom regret having to keep his magic under such tight control. He couldn't wait for the pregnancy to end.

"I'll go check with him," he offered.

"No need," someone said behind them.

Brom turned to see that Tornac had slipped into the room while he had been otherwise preoccupied. Judging by the look on Trianna's face, he wasn't the only one that had missed Tornac's entrance.

"Angie," Tornac greeted, smiling gently. The smile disappeared a second later. "Magii."

"Holme," Trianna returned coolly.

Brom looked behind him, but it looked like Tornac was alone. "Where's the kid?"

Tornac didn't take his eyes off Trianna as he said, "In his room."

Small mercies, Brom had enough time to think before he felt a tingle in the ward that reminded him not to count his chickens just yet. He didn't hesitate or try to explain himself; he just ran.

"Brom?!"

Most bedrooms had access to the terrace, even those in the guest wing. He hadn't put Murtagh in a room with terrace access – for obvious reasons – but he hadn't thought that far when it came to Tornac's room. He'd just stuck them in rooms next to each other and left it at that. Brom was regretting that now. Considering how Tornac had all but adopted Brom's ward out from under him, he wouldn't have thought to do anything to keep Murtagh out of his room. Meaning Murtagh had terrace access as long as he was unsupervised and curious enough to risk it.

Brom had no idea why Murtagh had chosen that moment to risk it, but he was going to make sure the kid never did it again.

The door to Tornac's room was closed, but Brom slammed it open without even slowing down. The curtains were fluttering in the breeze that shouldn't have been there. Brom pushed past them and stepped onto the terrace to a terrifying sight.

"MURTAGH!"

Murtagh jolted and looked at him guiltily. He tried to hide the stolen keys in his hand, but not quickly enough. Brom had already seen them and identified them as Tornac's. He didn't look forward to telling Tornac his little protégé was a pick-pocket in the making.

Straight opposite Murtagh was his father. Murtagh hadn't gone as far as to step off the terrace, but he was close enough that if he just leaned forward a little bit, Morzan could reach out and grab him. Or could have, rather, if Murtagh hadn't picked Tornac's pocket before going outside.

That didn't stop Brom from stalking over and pulling Murtagh to stand behind him.

Morzan watched him, head tilted ever so slightly. His eyes slid down to where Brom knew Murtagh's eye-level was before rising to meet Brom's again. That was when Brom noticed the vampire-sheen was missing from his eyes once again. He filed the information away before focusing firmly on the situation at hand.

"Your desire to protect the boy is admirable," Morzan said, voice even, "but unnecessary."

"I think I'll be the judge of that," Brom told him flatly.

"He's my son," Morzan said. "I won't hurt him."

Brom kept himself firmly between the two. "Forgive me if I don't quite believe you."

Morzan kept looking at him.

Brom could feel the edge of the decking beneath his sock-clad feet. He knew he was playing with fire and couldn't find it in himself to care.

"I will protect him as long as he remains under my roof," Brom said gruffly.

Morzan said nothing. His eyes kept boring into Brom's, but Brom was determined not to flinch this time. He had a firmer grip on his body. If Morzan was waiting for him to blink or react, he would have to wait a long time.

There was a long pause where everything seemed to be still. Brom couldn't even hear the wind rustling through the trees anymore. Everything had shrunk until him, the child he was protecting and the man standing so close it was only due to the barrier that they weren't touching.

"Then you are forgiven," Morzan said into the silence. He took a step back, then another, before melting into the shadows like the vampire he was.

Brom ushered Murtagh back inside the house and closed the door before Morzan could change his mind and come back. That was when it occurred to him that he'd stepped outside without his sword or anything else to protect him.

-;-

Murtagh was on house arrest. He'd frowned at the word and asked what it meant, but seemed familiar enough with the concept once it was explained to him. Murtagh wasn't the only one on house arrest, however.

"I am a grown man," Brom reminded his so-called friends.

"Then start acting like it," Trianna snapped. "Until then, you're staying put."

"This is my house," he felt compelled to say.

He automatically downgraded his friends to acquaintances when they didn't seem to care about that.

"I'll make sure he doesn't do anything overly stupid," Tornac said to the women.

"I guess that's all we can ask for, really," Trianna said, voice dry.

Angela's mouth twitched in amusement as she finished going over the wards.

"I'm so glad to see you two have made up," Brom drawled.

"A mutual friend's stupidity can do that," Tornac said pointedly.

Brom was tempted to use his magic to throw them out but knew it was pointless. It would leave him drained and probably only accomplish in sending Tornac out on his ass. Angela and Trianna were skilled mages in their own right (probably more so than him, though he'd never tell them that), but they were unstoppable when they were side-by-side and weaving spells together.

"I still have my magic," Brom reminded them. "I'm not helpless."

"No, but you are Morzan cat-nip," Trianna said unapologetically, eyeing him sharply.

Brom was offended.

Tornac looked uncomfortable when he reminded him, "You want to be Morzan cat-nip, remember?"

"So he doesn't snack on unsuspecting people," Angela added.

"I hate all of you."

Trianna just gave him a dead-eyed stare before turning back to Tornac. "I get his bestiary when he dies."

"You've already called dibs on the armoury!" Tornac protested.

"Because there's nothing there for people like you," Trianna countered.

"Anna," Angela interjected.

"Like you don't want to get your hands on the Teller bestiary," Trianna said to her girlfriend.

Brom rubbed at his temples, but it did nothing to stave off the building headache. "If you're just going to bitch at each other, you can do it elsewhere."

The three of them just gave him various degrees of unimpressed stares.

"That was a hint," he told them. "Get out of my house."

They just turned back to one another.

"Keep us in the loop on," Angela gestured around the room, but likely referring to much more than just Brom's living room.

Tornac nodded. "And you'll be back?"

"In two weeks," Trianna said briskly.

Well, if they were determined to ignore him then Brom could do one better. He left the room and found himself almost stumbling over Murtagh, who had been lingering in the hallway just outside.

Murtagh looked up at him, cheeks tinted slightly with guilt.

Brom motioned for him to come along. He guided the boy back to the room he was staying in for the next foreseeable future and urged him to go inside. He waited until they'd both crossed the threshold before closing the door.

"You know you can't do that again, right?" Brom held back a grimace. "Seek out your father, I mean."

"I know you don't want me to," Murtagh said, which wasn't the same as what Brom had said _at all_.

"Murtagh -"

"He isn't going to hurt me," Murtagh interrupted.

Brom sighed. "You can't know that."

Murtagh frowned. "Yes, I can."

Brom was surprised. Where was the boy he'd met, who had looked frightened for his life when he'd only proclaimed that his father was awake? Something had clearly changed between then and now – most visibly in Murtagh. Brom was not ready to trust that Morzan had changed in any significant way, not until he had tangible proof.

After all; just because he hadn't grabbed for Brom earlier didn't mean he wouldn't have, had there not been a barrier between them.

"Look -"

"He's different," Murtagh said stubbornly.

"That doesn't mean he's changed that much, or that he can't relapse," Brom said. "You need to be careful around him, no matter what."

"I'm not the one that needs to be careful."

Coming from anyone else, that might have sounded like a threat. Coming from Murtagh, it was clearly a warning.

"I know better than to be careless around your father."

Murtagh didn't look entirely convinced.

"There were special circumstances at play tonight." Brom looked at him pointedly.

Murtagh looked away.

Brom waited, but Murtagh seemed content to leave it at that. He held in a sigh. "Tornac is probably going to come in here and give you the same talk," he said. "You can tell him I already did it, all right?"

Murtagh nodded sullenly.

Brom left it at that.

-;-

Brom started keeping his keys on him at all times after that. He also gritted his teeth and asked Angela to spell an item for him that he wouldn't have to take off – something he could have done with ease before, but that he was forbidden from doing at the moment. Angela agreed readily enough and spelled his father's signet ring – which Brom took to wearing around his neck.

It cost him 'a favour to be named later' to get it done; Angela's favourite method of payment. He dreaded to find out what she would ask of him one day but knew he'd asked the right woman. Angela's favour was bound to be cheaper than what Trianna would have asked for as payment.

Brom felt like he'd done the entire thought for nought for the first few weeks. After all, what use did he have for a protective amulet when he wasn't even 'allowed' to leave his own house? But he did know it was better to ask for help sooner than later. While his magic wasn't gone and wouldn't leave him if he used it, both his doctor and his troublesome friends warned him to use it sparingly while pregnant. More than one mage had caused an unfortunate incident or two by casting too complex spells in the middle of their pregnancy.

He felt stuck and was probably acting grumpier than usual, but Brom felt like it was only fair. His own friends had him under 'house arrest', for crying out loud! And it wasn't until a month later that Tornac reluctantly said he was free to move about as usual. Brom was less than impressed.

His 'house arrest' had extended to the porch, leaving Murtagh forced to take over giving his father the sustenance he needed to stay awake and (semi-)sane. Brom had watched the encounter through the window, ready to jump out – 'house arrest' be damned – if anything happened, but the exchange had gone almost suspiciously smoothly.

Murtagh hadn't been willing to tell them why he'd sought out his father that day and Morzan had remained just as tight-lipped – though for very different reasons, Brom suspected. Morzan thrilled in having them run around like headless chickens. Murtagh...Brom didn't know what was going on in his head half the time, and that scared him. Tornac would hopefully have more luck than him in that department.

"He won't kill me," Brom heard Murtagh say as he walked past the boy's room one day. "I'm his only living vampire heir."

Brom felt himself pause. His blood had run cold. What kind of reassurance was that?!

"Murtagh..." Tornac trailed off.

There was a pause, where Brom imagined that Tornac looked heartbroken in that special way of his. It always inspired the worst kind of guilt and made people spill their guts whether they wanted to or not.

"I know that he worries you," Murtagh said, "and he should. My Father is dangerous, but not to me. He needs me to appease the Council."

Brom felt sick to his stomach. He understood what Murtagh meant and hated that Murtagh did too.

The Vampire Council were all about keeping the bloodline pure, as sanctimonious douchebags were wont to do. And pureblood vampires came from impregnation rather than the bite. Murtagh was one such vampire, and Morzan too. Brom's extensive research into the man had taught him that much.

No child should know that they had been born to appease some higher form of ‘government’ (if the Council could be called anything but crazy).

"How do you know that?" Tornac asked softly.

Murtagh was conspicuously silent. "I heard him speaking about it once," he mumbled, almost too quiet for Brom to hear.

There was another silence, where Brom imagined Tornac putting an arm around the boy to comfort him. Tornac was good at comforting others – much more so than Brom.

"We just want you to be careful," Tornac said quietly.

"I haven't been to see him lately," Murtagh replied, sounding almost like he was brooding.

Oh, Brom was not looking forward to when the boy became a proper teenager. The regular hormones alone would make the boy a nightmare, let alone the ones that would bring about his vampire awakening.

"I believe you," Tornac said.

Brom waited, but it seemed like their talk was over. He prepared to keep walking when Tornac spoke up.

"Want to go back to our lessons now?"

Murtagh groaned.

Brom took that as his cue and quietly slipped away before Tornac noticed him and roped him into the lesson.

-;-

It may only have happened once before, but Brom was still sick and tired of vampires trying to encroach onto his property. He grabbed the sword again, in case he needed to hack off somebody's head, and headed for the terrace.

To his surprise, it wasn't the same vampires as last time. There were only two of them this time, with sickly pale skin and bare heads that seemed to gleam in the moonlight. They turned towards him in perfect synchronicity.

They were twins, Brom realised suddenly. He hadn't known who the other vampire interlopers had been, considering Morzan had been reluctant – to put it mildly – to reveal their names, but Brom didn't need Morzan's cooperation now. There weren't many vampire twins. In fact, as far as Brom knew, there was only one currently living set.

Morzan flashed to stand between the twins and Brom, but it only succeeded in shielding his lower half from view. The terrace was too tall for Morzan to shield much more. The twins eagerly took in what they could of Brom's form, their eyes glimmering in the dark.

Brom tightened his hand around the pommel and let them look.

"What a curious predicament you've found yourself in, Morzan," one twin said, tilting his head in one direction.

"It would be a shame to leave you here," the other followed, tilting his head in the other direction.

As if a set of vampire twins wasn't creepy enough, Brom thought to himself, they had to go and act like that.

"I knew that bastard would send you two," Morzan said darkly.

Brom could see that his hands were clenched by his sides.

"Then you must also know why we've come," one of the twins said.

The other seemed content to look at Brom like he was prime meat. Brom made a vow to kill him first – if it came to blows.

"I'm not going back," was all Morzan said.

The twins didn't seem to be overly surprised or saddened by Morzan's decision. If anything, it was the opposite. They grinned as if on cue, showing off fangs that were likely meant to inspire fear. All Brom could think was that Morzan's fangs were decidedly more impressive.

"That is a shame," one twin said.

"But now we get to kill you," the other continued.

"And we have been so looking forward to that day," the first finished.

There was a lot to unpack in those statements, but Brom had better things to do. Like making the maggots regret the day they decided to darken his doorstep. "The only one that gets to kill on my lands is me," he growled. He imbued his sword with as much magic as he could spare and then he sent it flying.

The twins jumped back, but it was in vain. Brom kept his focus on the blade until it severed the neck of one of the vampires and pulled on the magic sharply so it could go straight through the skull of the other on its way back into Brom's hand.

He forced himself not to grimace when his hand closed around the pommel. It was tacky. Brom shook the blood from the blade and told himself he could clean it properly later.

When he turned to Morzan, the vampire was already staring at him. "What?"

Morzan said nothing.

Brom decided to ignore him. He tried to remember if he had any spare gasoline lying around instead. The corpses would need to be burned before their stink started to attract any unwanted attention – human or otherwise.

"You have to let me go," Morzan said into the quiet.

Brom waited for the urge to scoff, but it never came. He turned towards Morzan instead.

Morzan was still looking at him. His eyes were shimmering like lakes under a blood moon. They didn't scare Brom nearly as much as they'd used to. "Shade will only keep sending acolytes after me until I'm dead." Morzan was practically leaning against the barrier between them. "Let me go."

Brom filed the name away for later and took a moment to watch him. He considered the options. If he didn't let Morzan go, then someone was bound to come for the two vampires he'd just killed. And there would undoubtedly be another fight, but Brom knew that it was more likely that he wouldn't be able to help the next time. Either they came before the baby did, or just after; and fighting at either time would leave him far too vulnerable.

If he let Morzan go, he was trusting that Morzan would focus on what he presumed was a revenge-fueled mission or be faced with the consequences of Morzan going on another rampage. Even if Morzan acknowledged that he needed Brom's blood – and only Brom's – to survive, his mind might still be fighting against the idea. He could very well kill a handful or two, just to see. And then those lives would be on Brom's head.

Either option was a risk, but he knew what the only real option was.

"You're going to get yourself killed."

"What do you care?" was Morzan's automatic reply.

Brom didn't answer. It was better for them both if he didn't. He turned around instead and headed back into the depths of the house. He came back five minutes later with a bag and a fresh bandage around the crook of his arm.

Morzan looked at the former first but lingered longer on the latter.

"If you ration these, you might be able to survive whatever foolishness you're about to do."

Brom stuck his arm through the barrier and placed the bag by Morzan's legs. Morzan, still likely stunned, didn't even move until Brom's arm was safely back on the other side of the barrier.

There was a long moment before Morzan moved. "You've gone soft, Teller." Still, he picked up the bag.

"I'm more than happy to kill you if you move against me or mine again."

For once, Morzan didn't seem to have a belittling or sniping quip at the ready. He shouldered the bag without taking his eyes away from Brom.

Brom reached into himself and found the necessary energy to take down the barrier around the land. It was difficult, more so than it would have been if he hadn't just beheaded two vampires with a magical sword, but he managed to keep the barrier around the house in place.

Morzan stared at him for a long moment. Brom waited for him to speak, but Morzan just kept staring.

And then, between one blink and the next, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be a few weeks before I can post the next chapter, as I have yet to finish writing it. Wish me luck.


End file.
